


I Needed Clothes and Yours Were Here

by newbie93



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looks down, cataloguing the way that the sweatshirt hangs loosely over her small frame and notes where the baggy sweatpants are bulging around her waist from where she’s rolled them up. She glances back at the boy who’s staring at her in confusion, his mouth slightly open and his entire body tensed as though he’s preparing himself to make a break from her, the clearly crazy person who was in fact wearing his clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Needed Clothes and Yours Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> Basically pointless and plotless. Just some FitzSimmons College AU fluff.
> 
> All mistakes are my own and all characters are Marvel's.

“Are you wearing my clothes?”

Jemma Simmons is not one for dramatics but the question makes her jump up from the lone chair in the laundry room at a speed that is truly comical. Her hand is on her chest and she’s attempting to gain control of her breathing when she manages to process what the, _very_ cute and _very_ Scottish, boy standing in the doorway asked her.

She looks down, cataloguing the way that the sweatshirt hangs loosely over her small frame and noting where the baggy sweatpants are bulging around her waist from where she’s rolled them up. She glances back at the boy who’s staring at her in confusion, his mouth slightly open and his entire body tensed as though he’s preparing himself to make a break from her, the _clearly_ crazy person who _was_ in fact wearing his clothing.

She has felt embarrassed on numerous occasions but never in her life has Jemma felt quite so mortified.

“Oh no. Oh no this isn’t happening. I am _so_ sorry!” She feels her face redden and a heat begin to permeate throughout her body where the rushing blood is almost vindictively ensuring that her physical response is as extreme as her emotional one. “I’m so, so, _so,_ sorry!” She takes a step forward and watches as the boy works in tandem with her, taking his own step back.

“Umm… No yeah… That’s… That’s… I think I’m just going to grab Steve real quick.” He makes to move to the door but she’s across the room in an instant with a frantic, “No no no!” Steve is the RA on the floor below hers and, though definitely the kindest and most understanding one in the building, she doesn’t think that even _he_ would deem this acceptable behavior.

“Please, _please,_ don’t get Steve. Because if you get Steve, he’ll tell Nat, and she’ll tell May and _she’ll_ write me up and then I’ll probably get sent to Coulson and oh god, he’ll be so disappointed. Oh my lord. This is technically stealing isn’t is? Oh no. I’m going to be written up for _stealing_ and I’ll probably be expelled.”

She’s doing the ramble-panicking that Skye claims she does but her traitorous mouth is as fast as her traitorous mind and she can’t seem to _stop talking._ “Oh my god I’m going to kill her. I’m going to absolutely _kill_ her. Written up and expelled because my bloody roommate locked me out of my own bloody room and…”

She stops talking immediately when she feels a warm hand grip the wrist that she had apparently been using to gesticulate wildly. She stares at it for a moment, all five fingers gently wrapped around her arm and bunching up the sea of fabric that her smaller body seems to be drowning in. Her eyes flick from the hand to the boy it belongs to.

He looks a bit panicked himself, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline in surprise, blue eyes shining, and mouth still slightly open as it was before. They stare at each other long enough that she can see the precise moment where he seems to realize her hysterics are temporarily over and she watches as he visibly relaxes. He lowers his own arm, not seeming to realize that his hand is still loosely gripping her wrist, meaning that it drops lower and his fingers unconsciously tangle with her own.

She’s still rather stunned and humiliated by the interaction in general and can’t stop herself from glancing down at their joined hands in shocked confusion. His eyes follow her own and when he realizes what he’d done he hastily wrenches his hand away and begins rubbing at his neck in what she assumes is embarrassment. She can’t help but smile when she watches his face redden and hears his mumbled, “Sorry.”

“I hardly think you’re the one who should be apologizing in this situation.” She gestures at her body in humiliation and feels the panic reignite when the boy begins nodding. His mouth opens and now _she’s_ the one frantically gripping his arm. “Before you say anything or report me, please, _please,_ let me explain myself. I’ve mentally drafted an accompanying apology that I insist you let me get out after I tell you why… why I’m wearing your clothes.”

He stares at her for a moment, as if assessing whether or not it’s worth his time hearing her out. After what feels like a clichéd eternity he shrugs his shoulders, gestures for her to sit in the recently vacated chair, and hoists himself onto the dryer across from it. At his easy acceptance, she releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding and bypasses the chair to sit on the dryer next to him.

“I realize this is a gross invasion of privacy and I need you to understand that normally I would _never_ do something like this.” She stares at him imploringly and is relieved when he nods in understanding and motions for her to continue.

“My roommate locked me out of our room.” She looks at him again hoping that he might be able to put the pieces together without further detail but, considering there wasn’t much detail to begin with, she sighs and continues. “While I was in the shower…”

She sees his hands begin to twine together in her peripheral vision and notes that the pink tingeing his cheeks really accentuates the blueness of his eyes. She’s momentarily distracted trying to surreptitiously get a better look at the boy next to her and jumps at the chance to turn and face him fully when he coughs in discomfort.

“So you… you were in the shower… and got locked out of your room. And then decided to try on my clothes to kill time?” He turns to meet her gaze and she sees that he genuinely believes that this slight misdemeanor was caused by boredom.

“What?! No! I was _naked_ and…” She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because the boy’s eyes are suddenly bulging out of his head as he begins choking on air. She’s not sure what she can do to help so she awkwardly begins to thwap him on the back in an attempt to dislodge whatever invisible material has him gasping for air. He waves her off, scooting a few inches out of her reach, and begins rubbing his neck again.

She’d previously assumed the action was a nervous tic, done after bouts of embarrassment, but she’s not entirely certain what he has to feel embarrassed _about_. Choking is no laughing matter and he has no reason to be humiliated by something that had the potential to be quite terrifying. She waits until his face goes from bright red to a subtle pink before resuming.

“Right… so I was naked, what with the shower and everything,” she pauses for a second as she notes his face redden again and suddenly realizes what had caused the earlier coughing fit. Her own cheeks heat up but she concludes that the best course of action is simply to continue forward and rip off the metaphorical plaster as quickly as possible.

“… and when I went back to my room it was locked. I didn’t have my key on me and our floor’s RA has class until 8:00 so I couldn’t get her to use the spare and unlock the door. And when I texted my roommate asking when she’d be back, she reminded me that she was on a bus headed home for the weekend! And I reminded _her_ that I’d been in the shower when she hopped on said bus and didn’t have any spare clothes.” She pauses to take a breath and make sure he’s still listening. She feels her pulse pick up when she notes that his eyes are locked on her own in rapt attention.

“Anyways… she wasn’t going to be any help and my RA being in class means that the soonest I’d be able to get into my room is another two hours from now. I didn’t… I didn’t have anywhere to go, I don’t really have any other friends in the building so… So I came down here in the hopes that there was something suitable in the lost and found that would provide more… cover… than my towel.” She haphazardly points at the periwinkle linen hanging across the chair to dry.

“But the lost and found was empty so I checked the dryers and most of them were empty but one of them was full, and none of the clothes were warm so I figured somebody had just forgotten about them and left them there.” She watches his face flush again at this. “And I didn’t know what to do so I texted my roommate and she told me to just borrow something if I was so worried about protecting my modesty. I told her _that_ was technically stealing which is _beyond_ messed up and… and I haven’t heard back since.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her and she is suddenly struck by the weird feeling that he can read her better than most. He scoots over a bit, nudging her with his elbow as if he _knows_ she’s left something out. She’s sure she looks a bit chagrined when she continues.

“Granted… granted… I did use the slightly off-color version of “messed up” in the text but Skye…” She stops talking and jumps in surprise when the boy suddenly bursts out laughing. She lets him continue for about two minutes before she becomes slightly offended. When he clutches his abdomen she decides she’s had enough and hops off the dryer, facing him with her hands on her hips and irritation in her eyes. “While I realize that the situation is _so_ hysterical to an outside party, it’s not exactly fun running through the halls in nothing but a towel. Sorry for borrowing your clothes, I’ll wash them and return them to you as soon as I get the chance. I hope you won’t report me for minor theft. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait!” The desperation in his voice would have been enough to get her to stop moving towards the exit, but the loud crash that immediately followed his shout had her turning back to him in an instant. He was sprawled on the ground in front of the dryers, moaning and clutching at his head as he moved to sit up.

“Oh my god! What the bloody hell happened?!” His back is resting against the dryer with his legs spread out in front of him and she doesn’t hesitate to kneel between them and clutch his head in her hands. She pushes his hand out of the way and uses her grasp on his chin to tilt his head up to get a better look at the small lump forming near his hairline. She gently pushes a few stray curls away and lets her fingers graze over his forehead, diligently checking for other injuries.

Once she decides that there’s no need to worry about a possible concussion, she lets her eyes meet his and her hand descend until her fingers are grazing his cheek. She feels her breath hitch as he stares back, unblinking and making no move to avoid her touch. “You… Are you okay?” She’s slightly embarrassed by the way the words seem to stick in her throat but knows that her flushing has nothing to do with said embarrassment.

He nods his head beneath her hand, not breaking eye contact, and she realizes that she seems to have again gone breathless. She lets herself fall back on her heels, taking her hand with her, and begins fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. For a brief moment she thinks his face transforms into one of disappointment but shakes the thought out of her mind before she allows it to develop any further.

“I umm… I fell.” He says it with an adorable shrug of the shoulders and she can’t help but laugh. “Yes I can see that.” She can feel the grin stretch across her face as he ducks his head so she can only see the tips of his ears grow pink. “I just didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you.” He says it softly but the comment is infused with such sincerity that she doesn’t doubt it for a second. Still…

“It’s alright if you were. I was slightly mortified by the whole thing and just got a little… well, _really,_ defensive. It is a bit laughable to be honest.” She’s not sure what to do with her hands so she pats one of the legs she’s sandwiched between, not expecting his arm to lash out and grip her hand the moment it makes contact with his knee.

“No honest! I wasn’t laughing at you! I was laughing because of _course_ this whole thing can be traced back to Skye.” His hand loosely holds onto her own and she has no desire to remove it. “Girl’s a bloody menace! We were studying for the COMP341 final last weekend and she did the same thing to me! I mean… I wasn’t… I… I had clothes on… But she locked me out of my own bloody room until I agreed to her terms. Regularly scheduled study breaks and full access to the coffee pot I smuggled into my room behind Steve’s back.”

She’s staring at him in astonishment while he’s staring at her with an eagerness that causes something in her chest to flutter. “She did not! Oh lord, that doesn’t surprise me in the least. How long were you stuck outside your room?” She’s giggling as she asks, picturing Skye shouting her demands through a locked door as the boy in front of her paced outside.

“Not as long as you. After about ten minutes I realized that all I had to do was run down to the coffee cart and bring her the largest caffeinated beverage I could find. I don’t think she could have opened the door any faster once she looked through the peep-hole and spotted the coffee cup that was larger than my head.” He chuckles fondly at the other girl’s antics and then stares down at their still entwined hands.

This time he doesn’t pull back as though he’s been burned, instead gripping a little tighter and giving her a bashful smile that she mirrors reflexively.

They just sit and smile dopily at each other until two girls from the first floor walk in with their hampers and begin shoving clothes into the washing machines. Jemma hastily stands up when they enter, reaching her hand down towards the boy and helping him to his feet. He scrambles to shove his clean clothes into his laundry basket and she awkwardly loiters as she waits for him to finish.

They walk out of the room together, a charged silence surrounding them, and climb the stairs. “What umm… What are you going to do until your RA gets back from class?” She almost misses the question, too busy counting every time their arms brush in the cramped hallway. “Oh! I’d forgotten for a moment. I guess I’ll just wait in the common room?” She’d planned on doing that anyways. Still… for some reason her fingers cross at her side.

“Well… I don’t know if it’s a better offer exactly but… I got myself stuck in a bit of a Doctor Who marathon… that’s umm… that’s why I’d forgotten to get my laundry.” She watches as his face reddens _again_ and has to clench her hands into fists in order to prevent herself from squealing in anticipation. “Anyways ah… if you wanted to join me and the Doctor… and wait for May in my room… that’s… that’s also an option that you have.”

She thinks her smile must be blinding but knows that he can’t see it since he seems to be resolutely refusing to make eye contact. “That sounds absolutely wonderful. I haven’t done a Who marathon in _ages._ ” He seems a bit startled by her response but then grins down at her before launching into a detailed analysis of the newest doctor. She chimes in with her own points and the next thing she knows, she’s sitting on the floor of his room eating popcorn and arguing about a truly absurd prediction he has for the show.

Twenty minutes into their first debate they realize that they don’t know who they’re actually arguing with and proceed to exchange names in between bouts of laughter.

An hour after that they’ve realized that they share 3 lectures and are discussing the pros and cons of each professor.

By the time she makes to leave his room in search of May at 8:00 they’d watched exactly zero minutes of Doctor Who, instead spending the entire time folding Fitz’s laundry and talking over each other.

They stand at his door, her just outside of it and him just barely in the room, both promising to text the other tomorrow so that they can work together on their advanced Chem assignment.

After one last shared smile Jemma turns to leave before turning around to promise to have his clothes washed and folded for him before they meet again tomorrow.

He’s a bit bashful when he shrugs and tells her to keep them. “I’m not sure I could pull them off after knowing how much better they look on you.”

He looks mortified after the words leave his mouth but she just beams and places a chaste kiss on his cheek before he can retract his statement.

Jemma leaves his room with a bounce in her step and Fitz watches her go with a blush on his face.

\- O -

 

Five weeks later she’s sitting at her desk with a highlighter in one hand and a textbook in another when she hears a knock at the door. She flings it open without thought and feels her mouth drop open at the sight before her. Fitz is standing at her door, face and ears and _chest_ , a brilliant shade of scarlet with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I umm… Well I know I said you could keep my clothes but… Umm… Could I please borrow them from you.” He has one hand wrapped in a vice-like grip on the towel at his waist and is trying, and failing, to use the other to cover his torso. Her eyes are drawn to a drop of water on his collarbone that is slowly making its way down the planes of his chest.

She feels the blood thrumming through her veins and can’t seem to remove her eyes from the sight in front of her. “Jem… _please_ let me in.” The begging tone startles her out of her daze and she quickly moves aside to give him enough space to enter the room. It’s not _quite_ enough though because her arm grazes his abdomen as he passes by and she can feel the muscles tighten.

She shuts the door quickly, locking it for good measure, and turns around to face Fitz once more. And once more her mouth drops as she seems to be robbed of her breath. He’s staring at the ceiling in embarrassment, rocking on his feet, and doing everything he can to not make eye contact. After an awkward minute he quickly glances in her direction. “Jem…?”

Her eyebrows raise and she nods her head waiting for him to continue. “Clothes?” Part of her wants to refuse him but she’s so flustered by the thought, and the accompanying visual, that she breezes past him, staring at the floor, and reaches towards the small pile on her bed.

“They’re umm… They’re not exactly clean. I mean… Oh god they’re not _dirty._ I washed them yesterday but slept in them last night because they’re comfortable and I like them and… Oh my god. Just take them.” She thrusts them towards him as her face reddens and just stands in silence as he takes them from her outstretched hand. His hand brushes her own during the exchange and she sucks in a shaky breath.

He stands in front of her, staring at her as she stares at him. “Jem…?” She raises her eyebrows at him because she _knows_ her voice will be embarrassingly raspy if she responds audibly. “Do you think… maybe you could turn around?”

She does a 180 spin before he’s even finished his sentence. Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she answers it on the second ring.

“I can’t really talk now Skye.” She can hear the rustle of fabric behind her and shuts her eyes while trying not to let her voice sound anything other than normal.

“Why, is Fitz there?” Skye’s question is a bit surprising but Jemma’s distracted by a towel being lobbed over her head into the laundry bin in the corner. She can admit to herself that she’s not exactly functioning at her peak ability so she answers the question before it fully registers in her mind. “Umm… yeah actually he is but… Wait how did you…”

The other girl cuts her off with a high-pitched cackle that quickly turns into hysterical laughter. Jemma pulls the phone away from her ear and stares at it in confusion. She turns around to ask Fitz if he’d told Skye that he was coming over and is met with the sight of his head poking out of her, no _his,_ sweatshirt, which he was in the process of pulling down. He scrambles to yank the hem down, thankfully gaping at the phone in her hand, therefore missing _her_ gaping at _him._

_Oh lord._

She’s broken out of her reverie by Fitz’s, “God dammit Skye!”

The laughter on the other end of the line turns into wheezing and Jemma makes no move to stop Fitz from grabbing the phone from her hand. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you Skye?!”

She can’t hear her roommate’s response but she _can_ see how Fitz reacts to it. His face, which hadn’t _not_ been red since she opened her door, flushes an even deeper crimson and she thinks she hears him mutter, “That’s irrelevant,” into the phone.” At this point she realizes that Skye was responsible for Fitz being locked out of his room and she feels a sudden urge to reprimand the other girl and stand up for her… For Fitz.

She snatches the phone from the boy in front of her and places it to her ear, opening her mouth to speak before stopping at her roommate’s words.

“…understand why you don’t just _tell_ her that you’re crushing on her. I mean my god. The only person more oblivious than you, Leopold Fitz, is my adorable Jemma Simmons.” Her eyes widen and she chances a glance at Fitz whose own eyes look like they may bulge out of his head. He flails his arm rather pathetically in her direction and she thinks it’s his attempt at yanking the phone from her grasp.

She swats his hand away, ignoring his, “Jemma please give me the phone… Don’t listen to that… Oh god just hang up,” and instead focuses on Skye.

“You have spent an unbearable amount of time blabbering about how great Jemma is, how Jemma could have solved that question in her sleep, how Jemma’s nose wrinkles in the _cutest_ way, how Jemma is, and this is a direct quote straight from your mouth to my ears, probably the most beautiful girl you have seen and ever will see. And I love you Fitz, truly I do, but dear _god_ I will punch you in the face if you don’t get your act together and just ask. Her. Out.”

At this point Fitz has stopped reaching for the phone and is instead covering his face in mortification. She can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she processes what Skye is unknowingly telling her and she clutches at the phone as she desperately hopes she’s not misunderstanding what the other girl is implying. She’s spent the past few weeks harboring her own crush and for the first time since stealing his clothes, she thinks it may actually be reciprocated.

“Did I take drastic measures? Yes. Should I have locked you out of your room while you were showering? No probably not. But it worked on Jemma when I tricked her into stealing your clothes on laundry day and…”

“You what?!” It’s a bit embarrassing how high her voice is but she is suddenly able to put the pieces together and realize that her roommate is an actual evil genius.  The phone is silent for a few seconds before, “Oh… Oh god. Jemma! Hey buddy… umm… Shit. How long have I been talking to you? You only heard that last bit right? About the laundry? Oh crap, crap, crap. Fitz is going to kill me.”

The other girl seems genuinely nervous and Jemma wants the feeling to last. “Not if I kill you first.”

She hangs up the phone before Skye can launch into a defense and throws the device onto the bed without moving her eyes away from Fitz.

“Fitz…” His hands are still covering his face and his only response is a drawn-out groan.

She moves towards him until she’s close enough to tug his hands away from his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and they remain so until she places his hands on her waist and wraps her own around his neck. His eyes flutter open the second his palms make contact with her hips and his mouth drops open as he takes stock of their position.

She uses her hands to tug his face down leaning in as if to kiss him before veering left so that she can speak directly in his ear.

“I’d like that sweatshirt back.”

He gives her a confused look, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face, and nods slowly at her words. His hands leave her waist and drop to his sides as he attempts to take a step back from her. “Yeah. Yeah sure… I’ll wash it tonight and…”

She fists said sweatshirt in her hands as she leans up and kisses him slowly and fiercely, only pulling away long enough to whisper, “I’d like it back now please.”

His eyes widen as he processes her words, eyebrows raising at the implication behind them. He gives her a questioning look, as if gauging whether or not she’s playing a cruel trick on him.

She presses herself closer to him, grasping his hands and placing them back on her waist, and pulls at the material again with a mischievous grin. It seems to do the trick because she’s suddenly blinded by his smile. “If you want it, take it. It’s not like you haven’t before.”

She throws her head back in laughter and pulls Fitz with her as she moves towards the direction of the bed. He catches her lips in a searing kiss and her hands grasp the hem of _their_ sweatshirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it haphazardly over her shoulder.

\- O -

A week before the end of the semester Fitz and Jemma are laughing hysterically from the confines of her room as Skye bangs on the door and demands to be let in.

“FitzSimmons this is _not_ funny!” Their laughter increases in volume and Fitz moves away from the peephole to let Jemma get a look at Skye’s reddening face.

“Don’t worry Skye. It’s 6:15, meaning that if you go down to the basement, you’ll likely find Trip folding his laundry like the neat freak he is. I’m sure he’ll let you borrow something.” The banging stops immediately and they wait for Skye to put two and two together.

“You wily little…”

Their laughter cuts off the rest of her statement but they share excited grins when they watch her walk in the direction of the laundry room.


End file.
